This Discarded Doll Society
by made-in-wonder
Summary: Malik/Ryou/Jounouchi, written for OT3 100 on LJ. Drabble collection, various ratings. This isn't anything that'll change the world. But that's okay. Newest prompt set: rhythm, ice, burning.
1. Petnames, Kiss, Awkward

**Disclaimer/Notes:** I don't own Yugioh. As the challenge this series of fics fills consists of 100 100-word drabbles, I'll be writing and posting them three at a time within a chapter. Drabbles will skip around in time, but are all set within the same "universe".

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**This Discarded Doll Society**

"This discarded doll society," Malik murmurs one evening, Ryou snuggling his left hand while Jounouchi snores to his right. "Three puppets, thrown away. Thralls broken free..."

Spoken, the words ring absurd. Jounouchi's hand, flailing in dreams- "you take that back, Kaiba you bastard!" -strikes him hard across the chest. Ryou, undisturbed, giggles at some unconscious joke.

Malik sighs, closes his eyes. This isn't grandiose, no matter how many pretty words he spins. It won't change the world, it hasn't any grand destiny. This hodgepodge, this slapdash arrangement, just - is.

It's kind of refreshing, to finally just _be_.

**Arbitrary Accidents**

Fate had nothing to do with it, this time.

Ryou'd become scarce; Jounouchi'd noticed, in a quiet, worried, big-brotherly way - or so he told himself, denying quiet, worried, not-so-big-brotherly thoughts. So he'd followed the boy - to the museum, to the arms of Malik Ishtar himself.

"Oh, for..." Malik frowned. "Just get over here."

Cowed, Jounouchi'd grumbled all the way over, until silenced by a pair of dark lips searing his own shut. By the time a pale set joined them, nervous but encouraged by Malik's smile, the deal'd been sealed.

And not even God knew what'd happen now.

**Manning Up**

Bakura Ryou is _not_ this sort of boy!

"I-I can't!" he protests, face flushed ruddy from steam and horror, flinching from what looked like judgment in Malik's critical eyes. "Please..."

"Oi, man up, already!" Standing, Jounouchi sloshes over; Ryou cowers, clutching something to his chest, but a single _yank_ and he's not only been freed of his burden, but fallen yelping into the water to boot. "It's just a freakin' onsen! Bathe with your towel _off_!"

Stripped, Ryou bubbles miserably; Malik smirks from across the spring. Lucky Malik. _His_ scars are on his back.


	2. Rhythm, Ice, Wildfire

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yugioh.

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**Bassline**

Malik's pleased to learn Jounouchi has similar tastes in music. It makes lying around one of their apartments much easier, listless yet comfortable, each dreaming their imaginary adventures to the throbbing beats of classic rock.

Ryou finds it all screechy and shallow, however, fidgeting in place until Malik finally snaps at him to bring his own damn music next time. Sunshine and lollipops coming up, heckles Jounouchi as Ryou draws out a CD. Creampuff kid with creampuff pop -

Then the metal starts, guttural bassline rattling even Malik's earrings. In spite of himself, Ryou can't help but beam, feeling avenged.

**The More You Know**

As soon as they stop, Malik's going to _kill_ them.

"Oi, lookit that!" Jounouchi cries, delighted at his new discovery, running something clear and cold along Malik's bare back; Malik starts, biting off a cry, dappled in water droplets - betraying his blush. Ryou, interested, scoops something out of the freezer and tests his hypothesis along Malik's side; Malik swats the invasion away, but not before moaning, not before shivering. Damn them. Damn them _both_, he's never going to live this down.

And damn them both if they both don't keep going. Right _now_.

**Spreading Wildfire**

It's warm, Ryou thinks, baked senseless with contact: mind-cloudingly warm. Jounouchi presses his rough body against Ryou's front while Malik's fingers trace flaming tattoos along his back. Their legs tangle, trapping them within the flames - but three mouths gape open, swallowing the heat even as it scorches their throats raw, cracked, dry. Ryou gasps; Malik feels lightning singe his fingertips; Jounouchi grips the other boy's pale waist, jabs at Malik around Ryou, fire spreading from one body to the next.

They'll shower to cool off, once they're done. But someone will get cheeky, and the fire will spark again.


End file.
